<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Love In Half Measures by manicmagicat</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22414453">Love In Half Measures</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/manicmagicat/pseuds/manicmagicat'>manicmagicat</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Dealing with Homophobia, Family Issues, Homophobia, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild self medicating, Whump, i think lol, mental health</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 15:14:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>778</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22414453</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/manicmagicat/pseuds/manicmagicat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Baz went to see his family tonight. It’s never a good night when he has to face his father, but Simon is always there when he gets home. Even if he’s a wreck when he gets there.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Brandy Gets You Through</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It’s an anxious kind of night tonight. When they come one after the other like this, it’s so much harder to open the drawer of my bedside table and take out the little white pills. My doctors say to take them when I need them. I know that I need them, but sometimes I worry that I need them too much. I worry it’s becoming a habit, that I’m exaggerating my feelings to justify taking them. But I know I’m not.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a hard day today. Going to see my family is always hard. I don’t know if facing my father will ever get any easier. Every time I go over, I’m determined to corner myself off with Mordelia and the twins, playing games and reading stories until it’s time for me to be off again. I always end up spending much more time in the leather armchair across from my father. I go for the children and to check in with my step mother, but Mordelia and the twins have their own friends and their own lives now and Daphne’s busy with the baby most of the time. She does try to make time for me, but I don’t make it easier for her, coming over so rarely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So I sit across from my father. Sometimes I drink more brandy than is healthy just to get through the night. I can’t do that and take my pills though, and sometimes the knots of anxiety pull so taut that I know the brandy won’t help. Like tonight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When I drink, I feel like a failure. I feel like an absolute waste, drinking away my feelings. On those nights, Simon makes me tea and toast when I trudge back from my ride on the tube. He rubs my back and holds me while I cry. I always cry on nights like that. I hate being weak enough to need that. Simon doesn’t like it when I do that to myself but he’s always there when I do. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tonight there was no brandy, only dry remarks and long silences. And now there is a small white circle on my tongue. And now there are warm arms wrapping around me, tugging the blankets up over me and placing my glass of water back on the nightstand. There aren’t always tears on nights like this but tonight. Tonight is one of those anxious kinds of nights. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Like Tinnitus</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It’s hard to accept what love your family is willing to give you when it is so begrudgingly offered. And it’s hard to resent your family for rejecting you when they do it by such half measures. When you should be grateful for what they’re able to offer, what so many else aren’t lucky enough to have. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But I burn every time I think about it. Heat rushes through my body and pulses in my veins. Somehow heat is much closer to freezing than it is to warmth. It’s nothing like warmth. It’s nothing like my usual fire either, like power. It’s powerful, but it’s not in my control. It’s roiling and desperate to grow, to light the world on fire. It would burn me with it. It would burn the whole world down, starting with everything I love.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Would my father even care? Does he even know that the ringing reverberates in my skull for hours after my phone rings and his photo appears? Would he care if he did know? It’s like tinnitus, a constant buzz in the background of my life. I can’t ever forget it. It’s so constant that you’d think I would but I don’t. Not even for a moment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But I know who I am. And I’m okay with who I am. It’s such a good part of who I am. There’s so much that’s dark about me. Simon isn’t a part of that. My love for Simon is so </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He makes me a better person. And somehow I’ve managed to be a person that Simon can love.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> That’s the very best thing about me. He’s the best part of my life, of me. That love is the strongest and most pure part of me. And I don’t want to be ashamed of that. I don’t understand how anyone can be ashamed of that. Love is the most beautiful thing that I have. But it still hurts. I don’t know if it will ever stop hurting. But I have Simon to warm my hands after the heat burns me. I have Simon to hold me when I cry, even after all this time. I have Simon and I’m going to be okay. We are going to be okay.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>